Quiet Love
by jamesandlilyff
Summary: A one shot about the development of Scorpius Malfoy's feelings for Rose Weasley. Enjoy!


He was polite. Well-mannered. Respectful and respected. Intelligent, very intelligent, with an understanding of tolerance that his father had never had growing up. Hearing that a Malfoy had been Sorted into Ravenclaw came as an initial shock to most, for when the hat declared such to the chattering Great Hall, a lethal silence filled the room as quick as a charm could have. The Slytherins were aghast and the Ravenclaws were appalled. It wasn't until Professor Hagrid clapped mightily that everyone cautiously joined in. However, it did not take long for Hogwarts to realize that Scorpius Malfoy did indeed belong in Ravenclaw.

He was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself, with a few friends here and there that he could easily join in a game of exploding snap or Wizard's chess. Even at a young age he was very handsome, with his father's face and his mother's smile. Stormy gray-blue eyes made the young witches titter and all it took was a modest hand through dirty blonde hair to bring furious blushes to their already rosy cheeks. Scorpius was quite immune to it all, not considering the infatuations of girls as much importance. He valued two things at Hogwarts: coursework and quidditch.

He made the team in his Third Year, filling the open Chaser spot and exceeding expectations. It was a wonder he was still able to turn all of his essays in on time with the amount the team practiced, but somehow Scorpius did it, and he did it well. Grades had been important to his mother, but over time they became important to him as well. He had aspirations and dreams and knew that to achieve that, hard work had to be invested. And that was his life for the first four years of Hogwarts.

That is, of course, until he started to notice her.

His father had given him a warning on that very first day on Platform 9 ¾. "Scorpius, there may be people who will not like you even if they don't know you. Prove them wrong."

"Like who?" he had asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice. Going to school automatically disliked was every First Year's worst nightmare.

Draco smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's hard to tell. That man over there doesn't like me very much and he could be telling his daughter to stay away for all I know."

His mother frowned and kissed him on his cheek reassuringly. "Don't tell him such things, Draco. The last thing we want is more familial feuds."

Scorpius turned around just as the little girl his father had been referring to did. Their eyes met across the platform. She was glaring at him and he gulped - his father had been right.

The girl, who he later found out was named Rose Weasley when her name was called at the Sorting, had been placed in Ravenclaw as well. She had sat down with a blonde girl, her cousin Dominique, and had glanced over at him again. Her eyes weren't as hard as they were before but they were still distrustful. He hadn't given it much thought, already mentally drafting the letter he was going to send to his parent's with the news of his Sorting.

But in his Fifth Year they were both assigned the Prefects badges for Ravenclaw. He sat next to her at the meeting held on the Hogwarts Express and spent the entire time absentmindedly counting the freckles on her arm. She spoke to him for the first time as they headed back to their train compartments.

"I guess this means we'll have to work together instead of against each other for once," Rose noted, taking him by surprise.

His eyebrows knit in genuine confusion. "When were we ever against each other?"

She rolled her eyes. "We're the top students in our Year, Malfoy. Don't tell me you haven't felt the slightest bit competitive over the past four years."

He honestly hadn't. He had always been his own competition, but instead of replying, he just shrugged before she ran off to go join her endless amount of cousins.

Scorpius couldn't help but think that she was sort of pretty. Her hair was long, and although slightly bushy, a deep red color that reminded him of Christmas. Her clear blue eyes were fitted under filled brows and her small nose was decorated with millions of tiny freckles. She was significantly shorter than him and he imagined how comfortable it would be to wrap a hand around her waist as her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck.

All right, so she wasn't just pretty, but sort of beautiful.

It was over the next couple of months that he realized most boys at the school didn't give her the attention he would have expected her to get. Perhaps it was because her family always surrounded her, or how her nose was always stuck in a book. She was, he also began to see, very intelligent, and just as focused on her studies as he. Had she always sat at a table so close to him in the library? It amazed he him had never quite noticed her before. She was fascinating, with her thirst for knowledge and acerbic tongue that was eager to tell off any unsuspecting student that dared to rub her the wrong way, family included.

"Rosie, come on! Quidditch ran late last night and my intended nap ended up lasting the entire night." He had overheard her cousin Albus Potter plead one morning at breakfast down the table from where he sat eating his porridge. Rose was staring straight ahead, chewing on her toast with an irked expression.

"What do you expect me to do, give you my essay to copy?" she snapped, rolling her eyes.

"Just give me some of the major points and I'll manage the rest, mum will _kill_ me if I get another detention!"

"It's not like you do anything on said detentions other than talk dragons with Hagrid over tea and rock cakes," Rose rebuked.

"But I have Quidditch! The match against Gryffindor is a month away and I'll never live it down if James beats us!"

"Ever consider that the reason you attend this school is for your classes and _not_ to play Quidditch?"

"I-"

"Take Malfoy, for example," she stated and he dropped his spoon at the mention of his name. Unaware, Rose continued with the same lecturing tone. "He manages to be second in our year, a top Qudditch player, and fulfill his Prefect duties without even breaking a sweat."

Interesting.

"You're forgetting about all the girls that chase his broom like bludgers," Albus shot back, giving Rose a significant look.

Rose's nose twitched at his comment. "Yes, well, maybe you'd get just as many dates if you weren't always in detention. The answer is no, Al. Now let me eat my breakfast in peace."

Albus groaned. "Fine. And by the way, I'd say you're second in our year, after magnificent Malfoy."

Rose had been in a poor mood the rest of the day while Malfoy walked a little taller than usual.

He watched her a lot, secretly, because he was able to learn a lot about her that way. She braided her hair when she studied. Her favorite place to read was the leather armchair by the fire. She often spent time with her cousin Lily. Quidditch bored her. And she never had more than one butterbeer to drink at a party.

Which was why he was surprised to see her accept a second from Fletcher Smith after Ravenclaw's win against Hufflepuff early January. His eyebrow raised in curiosity as she took a swig from the bottle, her already pink cheeks deepening in color.

A hand clapped him on his back, bringing his attention away from Rose momentarily. "Great match, Scorp. You sure handed their asses to 'em."

"Thanks, mate," Scorpius nodded to the drunken 7th Year who he thought was named Ivan or Evan or something. Regardless, the burly wizard was swaying dangerously close to the punch bowl behind them, and Scorpius took the liberty of removing him from harm's way. "Hey, you better go grab a girl and a spot on the couch while it's open."

"Right you are Malfoy," he slurred with a lazy wink and sauntered off. Scorpius didn't particularly enjoy drinking, but people who did could be incredibly amusing. All it took was a second bottle for some and it'd be like they had chugged veritserum. Remembering Rose, he his attention towards the corner where Fletcher had led her.

A part of him wished he hadn't looked, that he would have forgotten entirely about her and not even considering returning his eyes to where she stood, because what he saw had the strangest effect on him, an emotion spreading through him as quickly as it had come that he had never fully felt before. Fletcher was running his hands over her and trying to pull her closer into him. It would be one thing if she had consented, but Rose looked visibly uncomfortable as she kept trying to remove his bastard hands wherever he laid them next. Scorpius hadn't even realized he had stridden over to them until he shoved Fletcher against the wood paneling - hard.

"Oi, what the-"

He was seething. "Keep your hands to yourself, I'm sure you've had plenty of practice."

Fletcher, eyes wide, glanced over at a silent Rose, who was red in the face and staring intently at the floor, before sulking off to go hunt for other vulnerable prey. Now that the arse had left he calmed down, and the reality of the situation sunk in. Not knowing what else to do, Scorpius nodded and rushed towards his dormitory, wondering how he had let his anger get the best of him.

The rest of the week he could feel Rose looking at him but he resisted the temptation to return to gaze. She changed strategy a week later when he was working in the library on lunar charts. Small, pale, freckled hands slapped the table with a ferocity that forced him to look up into a face that screamed defiance.

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did you do what you did?"

Scorpius didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Don't you dare pull that with me. What, do you want a thank you or something? Because you're not getting it."

"Are you feeling all right, Weasley? You're sound a bit delusional."

"Fine. Let's just get one thing straight. I don't need bloody saving, especially not from you."

Especially not from you. What could that mean? She was endlessly fascinating. He might have even given in to his impulses and asked her, but she strode away from the table, black skirt swinging over pale thighs. He was enamored.

She ignored him during Prefect rounds and overall acted as if he didn't exist. It drove him wild but he was too proud to break her silence. He had so many questions that he feared he would never get an answer to because he wouldn't answer her single question, "Why?". The pure and simple truth was that he loved her and it infuriated him to see with someone else, let alone one who's advances were unwelcome. He loved her and he wanted to protect her. But as Oscar Wilde said, the truth is rarely pure and never simple.

Fifth Year passed by in a blur of coursework, Quidditch, and red hair. Every thought was filled with her. Scorpius was restless and the summer dragged by. He wrote her thirteen letters than he would never send. Instead, they were neatly tucked into books on his shelf, only to be discovered when his father borrowed _The Count of Monte Christo_ the day before he returned to school. He was called into his father's study after dinner. Scorpius knocked twice on the large mahogany doors and entered to see his father in a chair by the fire reading _The Count_. Scorpius' letter to Rose was on the table beside him.

"Did you read it?" Scorpius asked him.

Draco closed the book and rubbed his beard. The flickering flames accentuated the lines on his face. "No, what you write and seal is for you only. But if I may ask, why haven't you sent it?"

Scorpius sat down on the chair next to his father, gingerly picking up the envelope. Rose's name was written in scarlet ink. "Just because it was written to her doesn't mean it's for her."

His father chuckled. "A Malfoy and a Weasley. Your Grandfather must be rolling over in his grave."

"I don't care," Scorpius snapped, harsher than he intended. He saw the patience on his father's weathered face and knew his tone was unjust. Softened, he elaborated. "She doesn't know, though."

"May I ask why?"

"I don't want to tell her. Not yet."

"Are you friends?"

"Not really."

"Son, if might come as a bit of a shock when you do decide to let her know if you hardly speak," Draco smiled.

"I suppose you're right," Scorpius agreed. "I want to wait so I know I'm sure."

"And sure you shall be."

Boarding the Express the next day was hectic. The train was packed and he waited in anticipation of the Prefects meeting to see her. Finally, the time had come, and it was as if sunlight had broken through a perpetually cloudy summer. She was utterly radiant.

He counted the freckles on her arms again. Nine hundred and seventy four - eight more than last year. At the end of the meeting he spoke, taking his father's advice.

"Rose? How was your summer?"

She frowned, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Exquisite."

"I'm glad to hear it," he smiled, holding in laughter from the gaping look on her face as he strode away casually, hand in his pockets and whistling for effect. The next morning he sat directly next to her at breakfast.

"How did you sleep?"

"Decently," she replied, suspiciously glaring at him through dark lashes. "And yourself?"

"Restlessly," he admitted. "Pumpkin juice?"

Eyes still wary, she nodded. They ate breakfast together in silence before departing for class, during which time she asked him about his O.W.L's.

That year Rose attended her first ever Quidditch match without being asked, and Scorpius never did his homework alone again.

The following summer he wrote Rose ninety-seven letters, all of which were sent. He finally asked her all of his questions. He awoke every morning to her reply.

The first day of his last year he kissed her in the Entrance Hall as they wore matching Heads badges.

She kissed him back.


End file.
